Forever Operation Meteor
by Eyefantasy
Summary: Left stranded, destitute and without their Gundams, four Gundam pilots have to navigate their way through the chaotic Cosmic Era as war tensions escalate, again, between the genetically modified humans known as Coordinators, and their bitter enemies, the Naturals. However, from behind the scenes, an old actor is about to reclaim the stage, and this time he will grasp supremacy.
1. Chapter 1

**AN**: Heeey guys, I'm back with something new - or old, depending on how one looks at it. So this story will function as a crossover between Gundam Wing and Gundam Seed Destiny. It's been roaming in my head since February and hopefully I will complete it. I'm still using the same premise of four pilots without Quatre - but don't worry, he'll make an appearance later on, very later on. I'm sorry but The _Seeds of Destiny_ is on hiatus, for now. The beginning I cited from Endless Waltz because its soooo cool, and admittedly, to my annoyance, it's a great way to summarize all 50 episodes of Gundam Wing (Just picture Campbell Lane -RIP- narrating it). lol

**All Gundam-related material in this story (Gundam Wing, Gundam Wing: Battlefield of Pacifists, Gundam Wing: Blind Target, Gundam Wing: Endless Waltz, Gundam Seed, Gundam Seed Destiny, All Gundam Seed Destiny Manga, et al) do not belong to me, but to their respective authors and production team. I do not own the rights to aforementioned material.**

* * *

**Act 1: The Cold War**

**Scene 1: Howard's Mistake**

_The year: After Colony 195. This year, a group of colony citizens hostile towards the Alliance, sent young men to Earth on five Gundams. The project: Operation Meteor. At the end of an intricate battle, the sole revolutionist leader, Treize Khushrenada, took on the task of being the one to close the curtain on an era and died in battle. That gave way to the birth of the Earth Sphere Unified Nation. After Colony 196. Battle weapons no longer exist in the Earth Sphere. However, as long as humanity exists, there will always be battles._

The sun shined brilliantly over the city, reflecting its light off the myriad of window panes, bathing the city in a golden glow. The sun was at its zenith. It was an exceptionally warm summer's day of August that many of the city's denizens were walking about, laughing freely and playing in the afternoon's warmth. The crowded walkways and streets overflowed with sightseers, itinerant residents and businesspeople, traveling to their respective destinations. The noise of the crowd and the traffic-filled streets echoed loudly, and most resoundingly, in local hotspots. At this time of day, people gathered around shops and cafes chatting amiably with locals, and listening and watching various street performers, drumming and singing to the crowd's delight.

At one of the busy cafes in the heart of the city, juxtaposing a busy intersection, under a red-and-white-striped parasol, at a white circular table, sat a young man with dark brown hair gazing thoughtfully at his laptop. The youth's messy brown bangs cascaded over his face, lightly kissing his newly tanned skin. He wore a white buttoned shirt tucked into a pair of black dress slacks. His Prussian blue eyes stared transfixed on his screen, although, he would look clandestinely at an open quad across the intersection where children played joyfully in one of the city's fountains.

Glancing back at his laptop, the youth reviewed any news-related sites and headings, especially noting the demilitarizing of armaments. The latest disarmament happened earlier this morning at a former Earth Alliance mobile suit factory at the former United States, California; San Francisco plant, Metalworks. Said plant was planning to convert the factory into a material resource facility for the space colonies, to improve greater relations in the newly Earth Sphere Unified Nations. A superimposed picture of the one responsible for the change and negotiations on the screen shook hands with the CEO of Metalworks. Dressed in a white dress suit with accompanying white pants, Vice Foreign Minister Relena Darlian, former Queen Relena Peacecraft of the Earth Sphere Unified Nations, stood firm and resolute in the picture; her kind blue eyes displayed her firmness and resolution in the face of overwhelming adversity.

She was strong; a lot stronger than he: a person whose life only revolved around battles; that his only purpose was fighting. But he was trying to change that, trying being the keyword. He enrolled himself in the current city's technical college, living an ordinary life of a civilian. Granted, this life was a radical change from his former as a Gundam pilot. It was one of simplicity.

He sighed deeply, his lips pursing together. Being normal was strange but he would try, for Relena, and living in a world without the Gundams; although, he was still dissatisfied with his placement in this new role. He felt insecure within his new role and the demons from his past did not make socialization any better.

A male voice broke the young man out his reverie. Three young men stood, nervously, in front of him, wearing the same outfit as he with the additional black-and-gray-striped tie. A nervous air surrounded the trio.

"Hey, you're Heero Yuy, right? You played at last night's basketball game. Would you be up for a short session with us?" A young youth with black hair asked, loosely holding a basketball.

The newly named Heero Yuy looked up, calmly surveying his audience, his blue eyes sharp and piercing. The three teens trembled in fear. Looking into his eyes was like looking into winter: cold and ruthless.

"Um, yeah, I don't think it'll be the best time," the youth said hurriedly, before he and his classmates left the vicinity swiftly.

Heero stared quietly at their departure. It was not the first time that this had happened, and he was sure it would not be the last. The young adults at the school he attended usually kept away, afraid of his translucent stare, as if knowing, in once glance, their personality.

He took another sip from his beverage. He hoped to relax more before this day turned even odder. A few hours past as he remained at the café, covering most of the area in shadows of the evening light. Just as he started to call it quits for the day and head home, a message window popped up on his laptop's screen. He froze. The message read:

_The remnants of your past!_

_813201523154_

Η άψυχη Γη

The only ones able to use this message system, the Gundam Circuit, were the Gundam pilots, in case of emergencies. The problem with this message was there was no author. He stared suspiciously at the message, mentally checking the names of those capable of accessing their private network. A sudden thought passed through his mind as he deciphered the message. With a great haste he packed his belongings and walked home; a deep frown marred his handsome face, but his eyes held a certain determination that had not left him since the end of the war. It seemed as if life had another change for him, and he would gladly take its offer. He knew where to go.

* * *

The ancient Italian philosopher Galileo Galilee once observed on the moon's surface through his telescope and remarked that it was not flat, but like the Earth: filled with rigid, mountainous ranges and craters blanketing the white orb in deep scars. It was barren, lifeless and cold. But, in the future, with years of technological advancement, the moon became a tourist attraction for those living in space and Earth, creating new ways and lifestyles for sentient life. Unfortunately, this new style of living would not last as the Earth Alliance grew to militarily dominate the moon, coinciding with the new tourist attraction and centers. Even then the moon was shaping up to be a future battlefield.

With the past war between the colony revolutionaries, the Organization of the Zodiac, the Earth Alliance, and the White Fang, the moon turned into a hotspot for new technological facilities for mobile suits and battleships. Nonetheless, now, with end of war, the moon was once again on the rise of resurrection for tourism; however, a graveyard of broken and destroyed mobile suits still lay motionlessly orbiting around and on its cold, rocky surface.

It was this haunting image that Heero gazed upon as he looked across the moon's surface. Leaving his shuttle at one of the lunar spaceports, he set out on his mission. Clad in a white spacesuit, he drove a space rover a distance from the spaceport. The ocean of stars raced across his black visor as he accelerated across the vast ridges of the moon's surface, evading broken wreckage and the occasional mobile suit head. Stopping at a bunker-like hill, he left his vehicle swiftly, jumping lightly into zero gravity. Catching himself, he came upon a black metal door with an access panel next to it. He entered quickly the code and stood back as the black metal door slid into its frame, allowing him entry.

A light automatically came on, illuminating a small room with an entry door. There, behind that closed-door would be a corridor that would take him to his goal. He exited the second door with haste, pulling off his helmet. He breathed in the oxygenated air, thankful for working ventilation systems. He discarded his spacesuit in a nearby locker, noticing a few other spacesuits thrown carelessly in other lockers. Free of his spacesuit, Heero was left clothed in a navy blue jacket complimenting a green tank top, tucked into a pair of light blue jeans, and outfitted in a pair of brown shoes. He checked cautiously his firearm, holstered on his left hip. Finding everything set, he stealthily entered the facility, checking every corner for any sign of hostility.

Coming across another door, he passed through it, walking into a large storage facility. The room was dark except for the light shining over five ginormous mobile suits, Gundams, casting them in an angelic glow. They were the five mobile suits responsible for saving the Earth and ending the terrible war between space and Earth. The Altron stood on the far right, standing in righteous fury; its dragon-like green and white body with gold trim gave the mobile suit a feral appearance. To its right was the heavily armored, royal blue, gray and white, Sandrock Gundam. Draped over its body was a dark brown, anti-beam, diffusing cloak, obscuring the body, like a wandering nomad. In the middle, decorated in dark blue, turquoise and white, stood the Heavyarms Kai, in all its patience and artillery. The fourth Gundam, shielded in its black bat-like wings, was the Deathscythe Hell. It gave an air of darkness complimented with an eerie sense of dread. Although it was visible because of the light, black shadows bathe the lower half of the mobile suit in darkness, as if the suit was the personification of the grim reaper.

And lastly, Heero's blue eyes swept over an angelic mobile suit, the Gundam Wing Zero. One of the most dangerous and deadly Gundams to exist, the Wing Zero, equipped with the dangerous system, the Z.E.R.O. (Zoning & Emotional Omitted) System, stood immobile in the faint light. The angelic winged-Gundam, in contrast to the Grim Reaper-like suit, had four metallic wings, where two of them hugged its body in a shield-like covering. ZERO system an interface in the cockpit that gave the pilot efficient and calculated battle data and large amount of statistics to insure, tactically, absolute victory or total defeat; it was up to the pilot to guide the results to the correct path for future outcomes, however, the intense strain on the pilot's mind had devastating side effects. The negative side effects included: insanity from the stress of system from the mobile suit to the pilot, strong hallucinations, and mind-altering consciousness that warped the mind even after turning off the system. If a pilot was strong enough in will and had the fortitude to "tame" the system, they'll be granted greater spatial awareness and a greater spatial memory.

Heero had to pause in recalling the vividness of how the system and its variant, the Epyon system, side-effects caused him to go insane. Nevertheless, he was eventually able to properly control the system, which showed him future outcomes and possibilities in his favor or his destruction. This system assisted him to victory, and helped paved the way towards war's end. But no matter how hard he tried and asked the system about his future after the war, Zero gave him no definitive answer. In the end, it left him with a choice of his own: to live by his own accord, where those that controlled and toyed with his life were nonexistent. He finally had his own freedom.

As he walked closer to the blue, white, and green-orbed Gundam, a series of light steps halted his approach. A voice echoed from within the shadows of the facility.

"You're late," the voice said softly.

"Trowa," Heero said firmly, seeing the figure of the young man emerge from the shadows.

Trowa, in Heero's perspective, looked different, which was not unusual since it had been awhile since their last mission fighting the Remnants of the White Fang. He was still tall, if not taller than he. Outfitted in a brown jacket with double zippers paralleling on both sides, on top of a blue unbuttoned, high collared shirt – that did nothing to hide his physique body – and light blue jeans. His long, brown asymmetrical bangs covered his right green eye, extending past his nose while the back of his head was in a standard military cut. What was most apparent to Heero was Trowa's green eye; it held a light warmth that radiated acceptance and comfort.

"The others should be here soon enough, as well as the person who wrote the message. Do you have an idea of what he wants?" Trowa said plainly, his green eyes never leaving Heero's.

"I figured that, but no. It might have to do with why he's been quiet all this time. Then again, I've never really had a long conversation with him," Heero replied. Trowa hummed quietly in contemplation before closing his eyes. He enjoyed the quiet solitude with Heero.

The two youths waited in the semi-darkness together. The silence was not overbearing between the two; they had steadily gained a deep camaraderie during the war, which aligned with their similar pasts. It was a profound sense of being soldiers that bonded their fates together. Heero felt quite relaxed around the quiet Trowa, and he was sure Trowa felt the same way. However, the sound of running broke the moment of silence.

The running transitioned into a slower pace as another figure entered the open door.

"Well, well, well, it seems as if I'm not the only one who got here to the party. Y'all did not start without me now, did you?" the new brown-haired youth declared, his breath even.

"Duo Maxwell," Heero said, eyeing the new arrival curiously. Duo had a large smile on his face as he surveyed Heero and Trowa.

"It's been way too long." Noticing Trowa's different attire, an eyebrow raised into his messy brown bangs.

"Trowa, decided that the turtleneck wasn't good enough anymore or did you meet someone special?" Duo asked, but bouncing his brows at Heero and his apparently new blue jacket.

A small smile made its way on to Trowa's face. It was just like Duo to give his opinion loudly and honestly, even if said opinion was unnecessary.

"I can say the same thing about you." Trowa noted Duo's new outfit: a black jacket with white faux hair stitched on the hood, on top of blue shirt that clung to his lean form and black plants.

"Catherine thought it would be a good idea to have more variety in my clothing," Trowa said softly, answering Duo's question, although there was a slight undercurrent of annoyance when he ducked his head.

"Meaning?" Duo questioned.

"She threatened to hold my clothes captive until I agreed to look for something new," Trowa said bluntly, pointing to himself.

Duo laughed loudly; just imagining that kind of situation involving Trowa of all people threatened by Catherine made him laugh harder. It had been awhile since he laughed so heartily and freely, a very long time indeed. After the laughter subsided, he looked into Trowa's green amused eyes.

"What?" Duo asked.

"You did not answer the question," Trowa replied simply, waiting for a reasonable answer. He crossed his arms expectantly.

"Well, you see, I—"

"You and Hilde got into another argument again," Heero interrupted, his gaze unwavering.

Duo sighed, scratching the back of his head in wonderment, his hip-length braid swinging in the motion; Heero Yuy was too damn perceptive. He grunted a curse at Heero before fully explaining his situation.

"It wasn't an argument, it was the _last_ argument," Duo answered sadly. "She hasn't taken it well to my disappearing periodically. I've been very restless since the war ended."

Trowa and Heero understood Duo words. They both were restless, trying hard to adjust in an era where soldiers were not needed, where they were not needed. Peace did not come as easily to them as they expected, it was much harsher.

"Two weeks ago was the last straw," Duo continued, "I didn't think she had a vengeful side until I saw most of my belongings on fire! You should've seen her! She was like the reincarnation of Aries in female form, with fire blazing in her eyes."

Duo trembled, remembering that terrible day. He tried to pacify the situation, but it was to no avail. His words rang deaf among Hilde's wrath. Truthfully, he to admit that he was the cause and the catalyst to their growing distance. He just felt that something was missing, something important.

He gave another long sigh. He really messed up this time.

"And that ends another chapter of my life. The next day she left me with nothing but my tears and burned piles of clothes. Well... I got a new beginning ahead of me; it's time I move forward. Time won't stop, even for us Gundam pilots," Duo remarked insightfully, his attitude slightly upbeat at the end.

Trowa chuckled lightly. "Is that what really happened?"

Duo tightened his lips into a thin line. He was caught! "Yeah, but I may have kind-of omitted that I flirted one too many times," he said embarrassingly. "But I am sure that it's time to look ahead."

There was a strong silence, one of self-reflection. Heero pondered thoughtfully over Duo's wisdom – the one without unfaithfulness. He was certainly right in the aspect that time was a constant, never stopping and forever flowing; however, sometimes, past guilt immobilized one's realities, leaving one temporary, if not permanently, stuck in time, haunted by visions and dreams. For Heero, it was hard letting go, as his mistakes ghosted over him.

Finding the awkward silence a tad bit disconcerting, Duo changed the conversation.

"So if you two are here, where are Quatre and Wufei?"

A snort echoed loudly from behind Duo. Three pairs of eyes locked on to the face a black-haired man leaning against the wall next to the open door. He walked slowly towards the group with a stern expression. Wufei had arrived.

"Wufei," Duo yelled excitedly, turning to him. "About time you got here. I was thinking you didn't get the message."

He stopped short of the three, observing them carefully. "I was already here; you should have been more aware."

"Typical," Duo muttered. Duo looked upon Wufei noticing his attire was the same as it was before and after the war: his traditional Tang Dynasty white shirt was forgone for a blue tank top outlining his lean and lithe form; his white loose pants were held together tightly by a black sash at the waist; and black Chinese Kung Fu shoes on top of long white socks framed his legs and feet.

The young man of Chinese descent's slicked black hair laid in a neat pony tail that was at the base of his upper back. In Duo's opinion, Wufei seemed healthy and well, but he could not discern anything about his personality when he stared at his dark eyes. Obviously, he decided ask about the young man's long absence without any form of communication.

"So, where you've been Wufei? Seemed troubled last time I saw you," Duo questioned, his purple eyes narrowed. Trowa and Heero observed intensely their fellow quiet pilot; his mysterious disappearance after the Vulcanus incident, and his strange behavior following their recent mission with the Remnants of White Fang had some of them concerned.

Wufei's dark eyes stared at Duo's for a long moment, his expression unchanging. Quietness descended on the four youths, bringing an atmosphere of uneasiness. Wufei eyes looked briefly away from Duo, recalling certain memories.

"I've been away thinking," he answered cryptically, almost detached.

Duo raised both eyebrows at his answer. He did not expect a reply, or an answer though, he expected a witty insult for his badgering.

"About?" Duo inquired eagerly.

"Stop," Heero's voice rang out, bringing attention to him. "He'll answer when he's ready." Duo gave him a confused look, hesitant to dig further. He never truly understood Wufei like Heero. He acquiesced before surveying the room, noting to his growing confusion that one person was missing.

"I thought Quatre would be here by now," he voiced aloud.

"I'm sorry but there's been a change in the schedule. He's not coming, although, he did give a substantial amount of money to my project as a substitution for his absence," a laid back voice echoed in the hangar.

The four pilots with a startling quickness stared at the second ramp that bridged the second floor. The figure perched on the metallic ramp had his arms leaning slightly on the rail, his back hunched, relaxed. His bright red shirt filled with tropical green palm trees, tanned shorts, and sandaled feet juxtaposed the coldness of the dark room. The elderly man with balding gray hair, a thick moustache and a long goatee that looked like a pointy cone, peered deeply at the group from behind his black sunglasses.

"It's—"Trowa called.

"Howard, you old coot, I knew it was you!" Duo proclaimed, pointing a stricken finger at the elderly man. A large smile wove its way on his face. "Why did you call us?"

"How would you guys like to go on a mission, like the old times," he posed. "A mission towards Venus?"

"Venus, why do we need to go there?" Duo quipped.

"Indeed, not to Venus, but close enough."

Howard motioned to the pilots to follow him. The pilots trailed after him being led into a center control room reminiscent of the Peacemillion – computers were strategically placed and interfaced into the wooden tables; at the head of the room was a large screen. Rebooting and inputting some functions, he brought up pictures and coordinates of the planet on the screen. Using a laser pointer, he directed the red dot to an area away from Venus.

"Before Doctor J and I went our separate ways, we kept strong surveillance an anomaly at these coordinates.

"An anomaly?" Heero puzzled, his blue eyes scrutinizing the pictures.

"That's right. J and I sent an orbital monitor to keep us updated on the strange phenomenon. Nothing has happened in the last few years until now."

Pressing a button, the pilots and Howard watched footage of the recent monitor short-circuit from a distortion in space, following its sudden disappearance. Then another scene of a large group of carriers entering the large black anomaly caused the pilots' blood to run cold. The carriers belonged to Oz and the White Fang. He turned to the stoned-face Gundam pilots, a frown marring his relaxed face.

"From what we can speculate from the image: Oz and what's left of the White Fang have seemed to reach some kind of accord, and they too, have been observing this phenomenon."

"What in the world could Oz and the White Fang have in common?" Duo questioned.

"Nothing good from my estimations," Howard answered.

"The carriers happened in February and the satellites happened in March. I've sent more monitors to get a closer look, but unfortunately, they too, have failed," he continued, rubbing his left wrist anxiously. "The anomaly fluctuates at times, extending and receding a gravitational field as it gets bigger or smaller. Very irregular, and, at times, very dangerous. It seems like those that entered into the anomaly waited when the gravity had been at an all-time low."

"So what do you actually want us to do in this situation? This anomaly seems unstable. If we get too close we'll end up with the same fate as your machines, and I would rather not die just yet," Wufei said bluntly, his arms crossed loosely across his chest.

Howard smiled. "Nothing that wouldn't put you guys in too much danger. I've noted the intermittent times the anomaly extends its gravitational field and calculated an approximate estimation of how long it would last."

Taking advantage of their curiosity surrounding the danger and excitement of the mission, he continued.

"I want a mapped trajectory of how big this thing really is. Nothing more and nothing less. I would go myself, but I'm needed here to record the information you guys send back, if you're up to it?"

"Do you think it might be a development of a black hole; gravity seems to be pulling the object, like with light, into it," Heero conjectured, noting similar distinctions.

Howard looked at the screen once more in thought. He cupped his chin. "That's a good possibility, but black holes are known to form during the collapse of a star. Where you're headed, there have not been any close enough stars let alone any stars that expired either."

What's startling," he pointed at the distortion, "is the anomaly's ability to vanish for a time."

Howard gave the pilots a heavy stare from behind his glasses, feeling the weight behind his last question. "Are you guys up for it?"

A thoughtful silence overtook the room. With his back leaning lightly against the wall, Trowa was the first to respond. Opening his determined green eyes, he answered:

"Sure, this might be fun. I've already told Catherine I'd be gone for a few days, so this'll be a nice respite from the circus."

Although his face was stoic, Trowa did hold a deepening fear of the unexpected; it was because of Catherine's worried expression. She seemed saddened by his departure, even more so than before.

"Mission accepted," Heero nodded. To Heero, this would be a nice break from his boring school life to sporadic missions; he'll be in company with people that he was familiar with… and annoyed. Moreover, whatever the collaboration between the White Fang and Oz had to be stopped at all costs. Wufei voiced his approval as well though, he did admit, in all his being, that he got a sense of foreboding. Whether it was good or bad, Wufei was reluctant to tell, even if he knew at all.

Many eyes swiveled in their sockets to look at Duo in expectancy. His purple eyes expressed a seriousness that was common to the pilots whenever he discussed grave situations.

"Let me get this straight, you all are about to tempt fate on this crazy, suicide mission where we might end up vanishing into nothingness like those Oz and White Fang carriers." He paused dramatically, eyeing Howard and his comrades carefully, his hands on hips.

"Fine," he gave in immediately, "but this has to be one of the most stupid missions we've ever tackled. We are such idiots for agreeing to this."

* * *

Given the basic information for the mission, the pilots set sailed in white a shuttle, contributions of one heir to the Winner fortune. Quatre left a recording for his reasons of skipping the mission: though very apologetic, he had an important meeting in regards to his ownership of his father's company with his board members. Duo remarked jokingly that he bet if the mission went awry Quatre would be the first person to blame himself over their stupid mistakes. A small smile tugged at Trowa's mouth regarding Quatre's reaction. It was just like the young man to accept responsibility for any endangerment, directly or indirectly, of his fellow pilots.

After long hours of traveling in the darkness of space blanketed by bright and blinking stars, the shuttle came to a sudden stop, floating lifelessly in space. A small alarm indicating a video call had Heero blink away the fog from his eyes, awakening from his slumber. Shifting into a comfortable position in his seat, the Gundam pilot surveyed the area through window at the front of the ship.

"We're there already," Heero commented, observing Venus from a distance. The shortness of the trip surprised him.

"Yeah, but now we got a call from Howard," Duo said from his left. The remaining Gundam pilots clambered to the front, watching Howard wave from one of the ship's monitors.

"Nice to see that you guys made it in one piece. Now, remember to keep your distance, and if things get to hectic abort. I'm uploading the restricted areas, stay outside those limits. We'll discuss the implications and our next move when you guys head back. Good luck." The screen went black.

"Better get started, Heero and I will watch the fluctuations, Duo, you're in charge of piloting, and Wufei can operate the observation satellite," Trowa ordered, walking to one of the many panels on the ship. Nodding their heads in unison the pilots got to work quickly, ejecting the satellite, as Duo stayed in the safe zone of space.

Travelling in an elliptical orbit around the anomaly Duo stayed cautious, his hands steady. The anomaly remained stable, showing no external changes besides the twisting of space around it. As the satellite got closer, Wufei felt the tug of gravity lightly tugging the machine into the abnormality. He pulled the machine back gently, taking pictures of it. A few minutes turned into an hour as the pilots continued their revolutions around the enigma.

"No noticeable change reported," Heero said, his eyes scanning his power reading monitors.

"That's good! We're about to finish our last revolution," Duo responded as he guided ship away from Venus's thick clouded atmosphere.

"And this would—"Duo felt a slight tug at his controls as the ship dipped a bit at the nose. He jerked the controls up to stabilize the shaky ship.

"Shit! I've lost control of the satellite," Wufei yelled urgently, trying with all his might to reel the yanking satellite back.

The remote-controlled observation satellite from the tremendous force pulling from two different directions shattered completely, pulling the metal scrapes into the maul of the turning anomaly.

"Energy waves are spiking at a dangerous level from the anomaly," Heero called, bracing himself in his chair as the ship's movement became erratic.

"Duo abort mission!" Trowa bellowed among the harsh shudders of the ship.

"I'm trying, but the gravity in the restricted area is reaching us now, viciously pulling us in!" Duo powered up the engines to the fullest, increasing blue jet stream flowing rapidly behind the shuttle, trying to escape the relentless pull of gravity.

The anomaly, a twisted area of space, started to condense, forming a ball of black matter that was rapidly expanding. It was soon larger than the shuttle - and massively out of control! The ship struggled frantically, turning at different angles. The occupants of the ship stared with wide fearful eyes through the shuddering windows of the shuttle.

"No way," Wufei yelled, his jaw slacked from disbelief. "That's a…"

…a black hole," Heero finished, his tone quiet. His mind raced feverishly for a solution. They were not going to last long if this continued. A sudden thought came to him. From what he remembered of Howard's recording, the satellite remnants and those Oz and White Fang carriers vanished, completely disappearing.

_In theory, would that work with them and this ship?_

It had to work or they would be torn asunder. His Prussian blue eyes filled with resolve over this heartbreaking and split decision. He made his voice known to his terrified companions.

"Trust me on this, Duo cut the engines or we'll be torn to shreds," Heero declared purposefully. The three pilots stared at Heero as if he was insane. Looking into Heero's cool eyes, Trowa nodded, forming the same conclusions. Wufei looked expectantly at Duo, while strapping himself into his chair.

Duo turned quickly his head behind him to look at Heero. "Cut off our engines?! Are you crazy, Heero? Wait! You must be crazy if we do something as risky as that!"

"Duo, trust him on this!" Trowa said calmly. This was the turning point and they needed to do this now.

"You can't be—"before Duo could finish, the ship was unexpectedly rocked in another wave of violent shudders as the engines gave out from the strain of resisting the gravitational force of the black hole. Black smoke flooded from the engine room into the cockpit, encompassing the pilots in a thick, black haze.

The pilots grasped desperately to anything sturdy, and held onto it for their dear lives. As if things could not get worse, the starboard section gave a violent lurch before detaching, splintering itself in half and falling into the black void. Shards of debris and wreckage crashed into the cockpit section, cutting into Duo's seat belt. With a resounding cry the young man flew out of his chair, wildly flailing in zero gravity. He gave a frightful glance into the vacuum as it drew him in rapidly, from the now open and shattered section of the ship.

A lone hand grabbed on to his wrist with such strength that he thought it would break. Heero, as if granted inhuman power, pulled him back into an empty seat next to him, fastening his seat belt. From behind his helmet, sweat poured from Duo's brow. He gave weak wave at Heero before he lost consciousness. The tremors became severe; threatening to destroy what was left of the ship. Heero gave a brief glance noticing Wufei slumped over the controls his hands tightened on his seat; Trowa appeared half-conscious as he held his seat tightly, though his breathing was erratic. The cockpit gave a large heave for the unprepared Heero Yuy. With a loud thump, his head hit the control panel, hard. As blackness overcame his weary eyes, he tried with all his might to survive the grueling ordeal.

_Relena_, Heero thought, as his head fell lifelessly to the side.

* * *

From the safety of the hangar on the moon, Howard watched the catastrophe unfurl with wide eyes, his jaw hanging open in shock. He desperately tried to reach to the Gundam pilots, yelling their names uselessly at the screen for what seemed like hours. When the shattered ship started forcibly being pulled into the black hole, he knew with futile hope, that this was the end.

The monitor went black as the remnants of the ship vanished into the black vacuum. He leaned heavily on the table before sinking to his knees in despair. He made a critical mistake, and it may have cost them their lives. How in the world will he tell their loved ones that the pilots are gone forever? A minute part of his mind that was not in turmoil hoped, hope with his whole being, that they survived this cataclysmic event, but the harsh realities of the coldness of space squandered that. He would have to wait until another chance happened to send a rescue team after them.

"If you four, somehow, in some way survive, please continue living," he prayed, his voice weak.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Whew! Done! Sorry for the wait, but life called. lol I got re-energized to do this from some inspirations - James Baldwin and Harvey Dent from _The Dark Knight_

_"I imagine one of the reasons people cling to their hates so stubbornly is because they sense, once hate is gone, they will be forced to deal with pain."  
― James Baldwin, __The Fire Next Time _

___"It's not about what I want, it's about what's __fair_!"

_____―_ Harvey Dent, The Dark Knight  


___**All Gundam-related material in this story (Gundam Wing, Gundam Wing: Battlefield of Pacifists, Gundam Wing: Blind Target, Gundam Wing: Endless Waltz, Gundam Seed, Gundam Seed Destiny, All Gundam Seed Destiny Manga, et al) do not belong to me, but to their respective authors and production team. I do not own the rights to aforementioned material.**_

* * *

**Act 1: The Cold War**

**Scene 2: Decisions**

It hurt.

And he was weightless.

Why did his body ache so painfully? Why did he feel so weightless, like he was floating in space?

Space?

Space…

The evanescent darkness of his hazy mind cleared faster than his liking, leaving him with racing images of the terrible accident. Tiredly, he opened his heavy-lidded eyes to the blackness of space and its ocean of stars. He gazed fondly at the twinkling stars from the wreckage of the shuttle. He felt like he was home, for the moment, forgetting his terrible state.

A trickle of something warm flowed past his nose touching his upper lip. He gave a small lick of the liquid, frowning immediately at the sudden metallic taste of iron. This did not bode well for the now injured man. Feeling the gravitas of the situation, he unbuckled his seat belt looking for any sign of life on the wrecked ship. The remaining three pilots lay motionless in their seats. Slumped in a seat next to him, Duo laid hunched over, though his left arm was angled in an odd way.

_Dislocated._

He assessed Duo's arm slowly, knowing he would get insulted and verbally abused, Heero gently but firmly realigned his arm. Purple eyes from inside Duo's green helmet opened suddenly.

"W-what!" he sputtered loudly, his left arm burning intensely. Heero held him down, so he would not injure himself even more.

"Heero, what happened," Duo asked weakly.

"We're stranded in the middle of space somewhere, and I just reset your dislocated arm," Heero responded calmly. He kneeled and opened a broken cabinet door, revealing a first aid kit.

"You what?! You son of bitch! How dare you! I hope you did not do the same thing you did with your leg?"

When Duo's eyes met Heero's impassive face, his purple eyes widened in confirmation. He turned his head in disgust, slightly moving his left arm. His arm throbbed in pain; he bit his lip and released a groan.

"We need to take care of it quickly," he pulled out a sling, and harnessed it around Duo's injured suit-covered arm. Nodding at his work he floated towards an unconscious Wufei gently shaking him. The black-haired warrior opened his eyes slowly, his eyes a bit glazed. He blinked several times before unbuckling from his seat and standing on the remains of their shuttle floor. He took a few tentative steps on the wrecked floor before turning to his comrades.

"It seems like we were fortunate," Wufei remarked sullenly, surveyeing the wreckage before turning towards Heero.

"Fortunate he says," Duo said sarcastically, leaning on his seat for support. "Well as you can see, we're fucking stranded in the middle of nowhere. Venus is nowhere and our shuttle is in complete ruins."

"That's why I said we're fortunate; we're still alive," Wufei countered evenly. He closed his eyes, willing his pounding headache to dissipate. He had hit his head on the side panel and passed out. It would seem more than likely that he may have developed a concussion.

A hum of disappointment echoed in their helmets. A now conscious Trowa was systematically diagnosing his suit and person. He looked concerned as his green eyes stared at the gauge of his air container.

"Trowa?" Heero called, his blue eyes narrowed on the quiet man.

The young man glanced briefly at Heero before shifting his gaze to the others.

"I'm fine, but we have a big problem. I've just assessed my air container and the module indicates I have about 45 to an hour's worth of oxygen left."

Heero froze as with the other pilots. The state of their predicament had now increased their urgency for rescue. He looked at his own gauge, eyes widening in astonishment. Looking at his comrades they too were in the same dilemma. His oxygen level was about the same approximation. He exhaled softly, trying to calm his already shaken nerves. This whole mission was a complete disaster, and he was forlorn to think that this might be his last day alive, considering their circumstances.

The Gundam pilots waited in silence as seconds to minutes ticked away. Heero watched the occasional asteroid streak across space in the distance, disappearing in the sea of black. He could not help but compare its sudden appearance and disappearance to human life: short but brilliant in all its experience of travel.

"So how much time we got left?" Duo asked solemnly, staring at the endless recess of space from his seat.

"About 15 minutes left," Trowa replied in an unusually calm tone.

"Huh, and this how it ends… in space. I always pictured going out with a bang in some awesome battle. This is not cool!" Duo stood, indignant of his situation. He had hoped that something would save them, anything, like the time at the lunar base. He chuckled dryly at his given luck… so this was end.

Or was it? Staring at a distance in space he saw something moving among the bright stars. The bright light was getting larger and larger, leaving a bluish streak in its wake.

"Hey, I think I see something!" he yelled, overjoyed at the prospect of aid, pointing at the roaming object. He waved his good arm wildly, hoping to get some sort of attention. The Gundam pilots glanced in his direction; they too, saw a moving light in the distance.

"That can't be! It's…," Duo proclaimed slowly, his hand drifting to his side.

"…a mobile suit," Heero finished. Disbelief held firmly in his Prussian blue eyes as the mobile suit streaked closer. Weren't the Earth Sphere Unified Nations and its monitoring organization, the Preventers, nullified and eradicated the threat of mobile suits?

As the object became more clear as it flew closer the pilots could define the incoming thing, or two? The first, moving at high-speed, was what looked like a mobile suit. It was nothing like the pilots had ever seen before. They sported confused expressions, astounded by the mobility and unique look of the model.

The mobile suit sporting a green color with gold trim flew in close; its monocular purple eye surveyed the area – their shredded ship – with suspicion. From his vantage point, Heero's keen eyes observed the tentative mobile suit. He noted the heavily armored mobile suit with a shrewd gaze. The mobile suit was bulky, but that did not detract from its speed. The regal mobile suit had five sets of engines: a double engine in the back; two under its heavily armored, shell-like shoulders; and two built behind its pointy, shin-capped knees. A long shield protected its left arm with two beam emitters, and in its right hand, it held a black beam rifle. On its waist, two half-circular cables flanked both sides.

The mobile suit's fin-shaped head – probably a sensor, Heero thought – turned in their direction, eyeing them curiously before holding out its left hand.

Duo stared apprehensively at the awaiting hand. "Does anybody have a bad feeling about this?"

"Bad feeling or not, we should take the help. I'm not dying in a place like this," Wufei commented, jumping and floating into the outstretched hand. Trowa shrugged his shoulders indifferently as he followed behind the Chinese pilot. Feeling his right arm slide behind Heero's head, his hand gripping his right shoulder, Heero supported his fellow pilot to the hand.

"It's not like we have choice at the moment," Heero said lowly, "Especially in our condition."

Duo nodded his head reluctantly, though the unsettling feeling in his stomach gave another kick. Asking for help in the form of strange mobile suits was not his ideal method of receiving aid. Grasping the indentations in the fingertips of their metal savior, the mobile suit positioned its hand by its cockpit before taking off slowly to its destination: a green ship that had a slender but bulky T-shape design. An egg like container centered at the hull of the ship, opened its doors to the incoming mobile, shining a bright light that guided the mobile suit in. As soon as the unknown mobile suit touched the deck of the hanger ramp, the five Gundam pilots stared in disbelief at the scene.

A busy atmosphere of green uniformed technicians roaming around the large, steel hangar greeted the four pilots as the unknown mobile suit placed them gently on the floor. Staggering to the ground and slightly disoriented from their injuries, the pilots could not help but look cautiously behind their black visors with apprehension. A total of five more unknown mobile suits lay planted in their holders, gray and intimidating, parallel to each other in two columns, immobile yet daunting in their design. They, too, were foreign in its design.

Firmly in place in its holder, the pilots' savior's cockpit opened, revealing a red-suited pilot. The figure floated to the ground, gently touching it with a grace known of spacelings. The red clad figure made its way toward the pilots, its flared and confident sway of her hips and a small swell of its chest, identified the pilot as a woman. A large winged emblem stitched on the right side of her chest, shone brilliantly from under lights of the hangar. She came to a halt in front of them, observing the masked pilots. In a flash, she took off her helmet, revealing dark tresses that fluttered to her shoulders; and a long nose with full lips on soft dark skin.

A kind smile made its way on her face, but her earnest gray eyes appraised their appearances. A small group of stern-faced, armed comrades followed closely behind her, their guns aimed at the new occupants. "Welcome to Zaft. So, who are our mysterious guests?"

Supporting Duo over his shoulders, Heero turned to the other Gundam pilots, making eye contact with each one before nodding slowly. The pilots took off their helmets and to the audiences' horrific gasps; they knew some of their injuries looked serious. A chorus of voices echoed in the crowd.

"They're just kids?!"

"Kids?!"

A call for the medic rang out and a steady commotion started to brew amongst the bystanders.

Gray eyes filled with worry, the young woman asked quickly, "Are you able to walk?"

Receiving four affirmatives, she rushed them out of the hangar into the white-walled corridor. A few minutes later they found themselves in the medical bay, along with the physical harassment that followed their examinations. The questioning and comments that followed by the medical practitioner would change their lives forever.

* * *

"Do you think they're Earth Alliance spies or maybe United Colony Front soldiers?"

"Doubt it – they weren't wearing any insignia that would show any affiliations with E.A. forces or the U.C.F. and judging from the scans and surveillance photos from your reconnaissance, the ship was not familiar with any of the given military. However, I'm not leaving anything to chance, even if the war is over. But…"

"But?"

"Don't you think it's strange for four young men to be in space alone?" A grizzly bearded Captain stroked his mane idly, his eyes shifting from the paperwork on his desk to the officer in front of him.

James Edys, the residing Commander on the Laurasia-class green ship, the Revelation, and captain of the Edys Team - a group of six mobile suit pilots – contemplated his thoughts over there new passengers. It had been hours after their sudden arrival on his ship, and he was already antsy of another scuffle in space. A veteran of the previous war he held many achievements at the Battle of Jachin Due, though, and to his great relief, his recent missions were less dire – protecting their homeland from afar. Garbed in a white commander's coat with complimentary black shoulder pads and cuffs trimmed in gold stitching, he looked immaculate in his military regalia.

"From the Doctor's reports: their stance, body language – Heck, they were even armed! – were familiar to trained soldiers. There troublesome kids, very troublesome," he said steadily. He picked up a tanned folder and waved it in exasperation before tossing it haphazardly at the red-coated female officer. She caught the folder with ease, eyeing the contents with interest.

"Those are the medical reports from the lab and their conclusive of our new passengers - they're Naturals, although, for one, his X-rays and tests confirm genetic augmentation and a series of broken bones and bruises," Captain Edys said heavily. "A great many broken bones adorned his body."

"Genetic augmentation?" The brown-skinned woman inquired, her finely thinned brown eyebrow raised in skepticism.

The commander nodded his head. "It's all in that folder. I've heard grave rumors that the Earth Alliance was shaping Naturals into human weapons using a myriad of drugs. I can neither confirm this as truth or false, but their capabilities of piloting mobile suits as good as Coordinators does bring something to the equation."

Yes, those rumors had been running rampant among the echelon of Zaft, but they were somehow quickly silenced. Still, the deep threat of Naturals turning their own into nothing but killing machines struck a nerve in the middle-aged captain. As a Coordinator his genetics were already amplified and changed at birth providing greater reflexes and higher intelligence. However, testing on live grown humans for the sake of war disturbed him greatly. A dark cloud always seemed to hover around Naturals in the Atlantic Federation. It was not something he would like think about. So, he refocused his attention on the wreckage of their "guests'" ship; best leave his former thinking to the higher-ups and other branches of Zaft and the PLANTs.

He pursed his lips as his eyes hovered over his computer monitor, clicking away pictures of the new passengers' destroyed ship. This whole incident was strange to him. The Messenger was doing a routine patrol of the area when they encountered a sudden heat signature on their radar. He thought it might have been another battle since tensions between the Earth Alliance forces and Zaft had simmered a bit; but, with all his years as a career soldier, the thought of small skirmishes still existed – especially with hired mercenaries. Captain Edys knew that with the cease-fire agreement tension between the two superpowers would not have dissolved so easily and abruptly for that matter.

In the end, he resolved the matter by sending the woman in front of him on reconnaissance, and when she returned with the surveillance evidence, he knew his intuition was on to something. To his utter surprise, the Special Forces officer brought survivors from that disastrous wreck – not one but four. Though shaken up the survivors looked relatively unharmed besides a few minor injuries. What put him on the edge were the faces of the group: they were kids. They were kids with hard eyes that pierce steel; kids with masks of indifference – besides the loud one with the braid – and cool veneers plastered on their faces; and kids with cold calculating and observant eyes, their hands slightly twitching to their firearms. It was a cautious meeting; one which could have ended dangerously, had his soldiers shown an atmosphere of hostility. Luckily for them, the injured civilians were ushered expediently to the medical room. And now a few hours after those moments, here he was examining their medical examinations and growing impatient at the circumstances thrusted on to him. He inwardly groaned for the second time. He glanced at the time on his watch. It read: 22:35 p.m.

"We'll talk to them to tomorrow to get more answers," The captain decided. The officer left, leaving the captain alone to his thoughts once more. He stared at the pictures of the four teenagers, knowing that he would have to make the call on their future placement.

"What in the world have I gotten myself into?"

* * *

A severe yet dreaded darkness encompassed the cabin quarters of one of the ship's many dormitories. The numb silence of its occupants pervaded the room, and it was absolutely mortifying. Because, in this instance, a terrifying reality toiled in the minds of the four pilots as they struggled to grasp their new circumstance aboard this unknown ship. Echoes of rustling fabric and bodies shifting harshly against cushioned beds only served to prolong their distress: their souls were restless and wary from a heavy truth.

Prussian blue eyes fluttered open, staring at nothing but the blinking circles revolving in his periphery. Heero tried to sleep; he really tried, but his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. He sat up slowly, his fingertips meeting the white bandage wrapped around his head and his cascading brown bangs. The pressure from his hands felt good as he kneaded them gently into his forehead, calming his erratic mind and soothing the slight aches.

Lying against the wall of his bed, parallel to Heero's, Trowa peered silently at Wing Zero's pilot with his green eyes. Heero removed his hands from his forehead, placing them in his lap as he hunched forward. Blue eyes met green.

"About time you're up. How's your body?" Trowa said, his soft voice holding a touch of concern.

"Its fine," Heero answered quietly.

Trowa grinned slightly, recalling a memory of a bandaged Heero after his self-destruction of Wing. "That's good to hear; I did not expect an accident like that to hinder you."

All pleasantry left from his face as he phrased his next question: "Are situation seems to be dire. You've taken notice of the woman – she went by Chandra Gupta– interrogated us on those organizations. Their uniforms, mobile suits, and terminology are unfamiliar. Are you familiar with any of this?"

"You got me," Heero confessed honestly. "They seem like another armed faction, a more formal military called Zaft that we're boarding. However, I've never heard of the places mentioned by that woman - the Plants, Zaft, Earth Alliance, United Colony Front, the Bloody Valentine War, Naturals and Coordinators. This doesn't feel right."

It was the bemusing spectacle after the doctor's examination. The woman in her red clad space suit with a wing-like badge emblazoned on her right chest proceeded to question them on their terrible situation, followed up with questions asking if they were affiliated with Zaft, the Earth Alliance, or the United Colony Front. Wufei truthfully told her that they were sucked into a black hole, which brought a bellowed laughter from the Zaft officer. Much to the pilots' dismay, the officer rejected that notion as fictitious. When they responded that they were not linked to any of the aforementioned organizations, she then, with skepticism in her brown eyes, asked about their firearms.

In a snarky tone, Trowa told her to mind her own business, which, to the young women's surprise, as this was a serious matter, had earned Duo's laughter. After a few short minutes of light probing, they were shown to an empty dormitory, for the remainder of their stay aboard.

"I agree," Wufei added from the bunk above Heero's. His long hair, usually in a tight ponytail, was free from its rubber restraint. He stared down at his fellow pilots with a thoughtful expression. Everything from the moment they landed and were stationed to their quarters felt off.

"I had a troubling feeling when we arrived on this ship, ever since that mobile suit appeared. Regarding this Zaft, we can infer that they are a militarize entity." Wufei hummed in contemplation before his dark eyes sought the rest of his comrades. In the blanket of darkness, his dark eyes seemed light up.

"And judging by their hostility to said Earth Alliance forces, we can conclude that these two military entities are at odds against each other."

"So what?" said a sardonic yet tired voice. Duo lay at the end of his bunk bed atop Trowa's. He rested on his back, his head on the pillow case. His violet eyes lacked the mirth that usually shined in them.

"That still does not change our positions as damn captives aboard this ship," Duo voiced.

"Must you be so pessimistic at this time," Wufei commented, annoyed at Duo's absence of awareness. "We should study these new enemies before we come up with a solution to escape. I have a feeling this whole happenstance would be beneficial in the long-run."

"Duo's right," Trowa agreed, folding his arms across his chest. Talking about their saviors would not get them out of this situation; but, in serious circumstances, taking drastic action without any weapons would be a foolish action.

"But I suggest we wait until an opportune time to escape though," he looked at their injuries, noting Duo's broken arm, Heero's, Wufei's and his bandaged heads. "It would be best to recover at this time."

"That's the best course of action, at the moment," Heero supplemented. He gave a tired sigh. They were confined to this room until further notice. He rather not be held prisoner again if he could help it. Fortunately, they were treated humanely this time – unlike their imprisonment at Oz's lunar base - as the room had its own lavatory and fresh wash cloths. It gave Heero a glimpse of hope that they would find a way out of this predicament or freed on arrival to whatever destination they were headed.

Nevertheless, the young man had a lingering feeling, throbbing in the back of his mind of a hidden fear; a fear that the black hole had flipped their reality, changing their universe or transferred them to an alternative universe. Theoretically possible or not, they survived a black hole – which still astounded Heero to this very moment. He could only imagine the possibilities of such a feat – and most were morbid. But little did Heero know that their situation had become fact. And such facts, when revealed, can have devastating consequences.

* * *

The morning came with the uniformity of space: nothing changed but the time. However, to the occupants in the well-lite room it was a sleepless night. Hunched and frozen over a terminal at one of the desks in the dormitory, four pairs of unbelieving and widened eyes gazed shockingly into a computer terminal. The young men were frozen, flabbergasted by the new information apparent on the computer screen. Its contents were transforming in the most life-changing and unimaginable way: it was indubitably true, now and forever, that they were not in the After Colony Era. The pregnant silence was so loud that if a pen dropped, the surrounding pilots would not have heard it hit the ground, less be mindful that there was a sound.

Duo's shaky voice was the first to ask the penultimate question: "This—this really is not the After Colony Era is it? I—I—no! This can't be true!" He turned to the pilots hoping –no! – begging them to repudiate the claim, to find some dark and perverse sense of humor to reverse this new reality.

Trowa's green eyes were vacant as he closed them and turned away. The news hit him hard. He felt hollow, anger and resentment enclosed on his conscious, reigning to collapse him in a state of panic. He composed himself the best that he could, fighting to remain calm, but his calloused hands trembled slightly. The thought of never seeing his loved ones was painful for him, especially for someone who sought a home to return to. A figure of woman with caring blue eyes and short brown curly hair pierced the confines of turbulent mind.

"Catherine," Trowa whispered. As if resigning himself to his fate, he sunk down on his bed, shoulders hunched and head down, he closed his eyes wearily.

Wufei, however, leaned against the wall. Sulking or contemplative, Heero could not tell, but his dark eyes remained closed though, a deep frown settled on his features. He would intermittently hum in thought before his brow furrowed in confusion.

Heero was unsure of his next move. From the research done on the computer they were in reality called Cosmic Era; an era after the Common Era. Timeline read: Cosmic Era 71. It was subtle but, and it occurred to Heero from the doctor's clouded eyes of anger and suspicion, the obvious animosity between Coordinators and Naturals was palpable. Coordinators, genetically enhanced humans from birth (embryonic stage), were able to resist certain diseases, have a more durable body, and process information faster than the regular human. As the Coordinator population grew, so did the hate-filled atmosphere.

Anti-Coordinator organizations like Blue Cosmos spewed the flames of violence and hatred, committing acts of genocide and murder against Coordinators. Their rhetoric of an Earth free of ethically and ethnically cleansed of Coordinators created the slogan: For our blue and pure world – a world free of the space monstrosities known as Coordinators. This dogma caused a wave of murder and terrorism, which, in result, created a mass exodus to the production colonies, the Plants.

Funded and developed in the Cosmic Era 38-44 by the three super powers, the Atlantic Federation, the Eurasian Federation and the Republic of East Asia, Plant (**P**roductive **L**occasion **A**lly on **N**exus **T**echnology) were originally designed as research and manufacturing colonies for the exploration of space, from the brilliance of George Glenn. However by CE 53, with the assassination of George Glenn by a belligerent Natural, they served as the refuge for Coordinators escaping Natural hostility and as a new military entity formed by Siegel Clyne and Patrick Zala – Zodiac Alliance.

By the early C.E. 65, with their new military technological innovations, the Zodiac Alliance was able to throw off the shackles of their sponsors and form the Zodiac Alliance Freedom Treaty. The members of Zaft, a civilian volunteer militia, soon gained steady momentum in the Plants, dominating the Supreme Council (12 elected members from the 12 "cities" or colonies). And as C.E. 68 and 69 past, Zaft's development of mobile suits and agricultural advancements within its colonies increased its status as an independent nation.

However, relations between the Plants and its sponsors deteriorated dramatically. On February 5, 70 C.E. at a UN conference between the PLANTs and the sponsors, a violent terrorist attack killed the sponsor nations' representatives, the Secretary-General, and the rest of the United Nations leadership, while leaving Chairman Siegel Clyne alive and unharmed due to a malfunction on his ship, thus implicating him in the scheme. From there the formation of the Earth Alliance erupted from the ashes of the Copernicus Tragedy as the Atlantic Federation, the Eurasian Federation, the Republic of East Asia, the South Africa Union, and the United States of South America (annexed) combined strength created their joint army, the OMNI Enforcer. Soon the declaration of war came, and with fanatic racial hatred, where the date would live in infamy as Bloody Valentine, on February 14 the newly renovated agricultural colony Junius Seven was annihilated by nuclear bombs; the killing of hundreds of thousands sparked an even greater fervor of hatred by Coordinators and Naturals alike. The bloody war, fought between genocidal ideologies, ended in a ceasefire at Jachin Due, where Zaft's moderate faction leader Eileen Canaver led a coup d' etat of Chairman Zala's regime after his apparent assassination.

From that prominent moment, Heero looked at the date on the screen which read: November 12, 71. It had only been two months since the war ended; which, in a rightful sense that Heero could understand, a lingering hatred, a harbored animosity, created tensions that were still hot between Naturals and Coordinators. Lasting feelings from a war such as this one would continue for a while longer, that much Heero was certain. What he was hesitant on, was there treatment for the remainder of their stay. According the data banks Coordinator sympathizers that were Naturals were treated fairly well, however, under Patrick Zala's brutal regime they were unjustly persecuted to point that mass incarceration became legal toward the end of Zala's tyranny.

Heero leaned in his chair in contemplation. This was a predicament indeed. They essentially were stranded, alone, without their Gundams (as if that would stop them) in a hostile land – a land and space fought on the racial factors of genetics, jealousy, and greed. And they were captured, so to speak, in the arms of Coordinators, who not too long ago believed in their racial superiority propagated by former Chairman Patrick Zala.

But, nevertheless, they still had to find a solution to their ever-increasing dilemma. More or less find a safe haven for temporary shelter after if they could elude any discrepancies in their story. Before Heero could utter his next train of thought a sudden knock halted his speech. Trowa leapt to the door, pressing the side button for the automatic gray door to retract to its slot.

Standing at the foot of their door was a man in a white Zaft uniform. His dark brown eyes surveyed the solemn atmosphere, noting the critical looks from the young men. It was like something had died in the room and someone was afraid of acknowledging or facing the reality that something was inexplicably wrong. It brought a sudden chill to the grizzly bearded man, and his eyes narrowed at the lack of emotion on the young men's faces.

He cleared his throat loudly before addressing his audience. "I'm James Edys the commander of this Zaft vessel, the Messenger. I won't sugarcoat the truth: that right now, you four are under Zaft's custody and will be detained and sequestered to this room for the remainder of your stay until we approach Aprilius One, our capital."

He carefully observed their demeanor before continuing. "From there you'll be transferred to one of our committees for refugees while a thorough background check will be conducted. I have no say on how long it will take, but I'm sorry for the inconvenience."

Commander Edys ducked his head humbly before looking at the pilots for any sign of questions.

"You're only following orders; we expected nothing less," Heero said indifferently, though his eyes were annoyed at the predicament. They were caged, again.

"Are you people that afraid that we'll start a commotion here," Trowa's unexpected voice called.

The captain shook his head negatively. "It's not that, we have to be absolutely sure that violence of the past does show any sign of resurgence although," he paused before taking a deep breath. "Battles have once again started within the Earth's sphere."

"Resurgence?" Trowa asked, reading in-between the lines. "Stop playing games. You're afraid that we might retaliate against you or plot against Zaft, considering that we're Naturals."

The commander blinked in surprise before a scowl lit his features. His dark eyes slowly observed the young men, their shrewd glances had him, by reflex, touch his holstered weapon. "In a manner of speaking, that could be a possibility."

Trowa clicked his tongue in irritation. It would seem, that as Natural refuges, the Coordinators still head unfair characterizations and stereotypes of Naturals.

"Now, before I leave how did your ship end up in that condition? I want the truth not some black hole bullshit you've pulled with one of my subordinates," commander Edys demanded.

The atmosphere quite tense, waited with bated breath for an answer. The Gundam pilots outwardly showed no emotion as their well-built masks set into place. They knew that they needed an immediate yet convincing answer; one that could potentially give them enough reprieve, for now, without following with more interrogative questions. Unexpectedly, Trowa had the answer.

He shifted on his bed, facing the Zaft commander. His green eyes dimmed a little.

"You're right," he said calmly, though, a hint of sadness carried in his voice. "We're just having a hard time coming to terms with our lives being at stake. Truthfully, we were escaping a Federation attack on space colony X-39012 Pons Pontis, which, as you you're already aware, had been a constant thorn in the Federation toward the end of the war.

"Most of the survivors, caught totally unprepared against the devastating attack, were killed when the Federation's suits attacked inside the colony, indiscriminately killing civilians and soldiers alike. With most of the shelters full we headed to the port undeterred, and stole one of the many spaceships. However, we were chased and fired upon whilst leaving. I don't know how but we survived. We were fortunate," Trowa ended with a vigorous shake of his head, trying to repress the harsh memories and emotions from resurfacing. His eyes stared beyond his hands in his lap, into a distant memory.

The commander nodded at his words as he rolled the answer in his head. He sure as Hell was not expecting such a detailed explanation. He knew too well the newly fueled war against the Atlantic Federation by the U.S.S.D whom wanted to assert their independence. The war had just started a few weeks ago, and already, waves of refugees (mostly immigrated Coordinators) were heading towards the Plants and other space colonies for refuge. The Atlantic Federation was absolutely ruthless; fighting for control of the known space port, Panama, held, most guardedly, in the domain of the U.S.S.D. after it was taken earlier last week.

Edys knew that the fighting had spread towards space, each faction fighting for a strategic point. The tall-tale sign of the destruction of the U.S.S.D.'s only colony, Pons Pontis, spelled the end for resource development for the superpower. And just like any other conflict, the civilians paid the most, whether with their lives or worldly possessions. These kids were collateral damage of war, and it absolutely heartbreaking for young men like these to lose most, if not all, of their innocence.

"Right," Edys agreed. "That does corroborate the events that happened recently in that sector."

He searched Trowa's face for any sign of dishonesty, but, finding none, he concluded that the boy's story had enough veracity in it; although, the puzzling question in his mind was why didn't his alarms go off when encountering any heat source besides that slight distortion?

_Mirage Colloid technology? _

Yes, that would be an excellent example. Although he was not privy to the technological specs – and mostly ignorant on detail behind the device – Edys knew that the tool allowed for stealth, a practical invisibility. The former E.A.-turned-Zaft mobile suit, the GAT Blitz Gundam, was a perfect example. If the E.A. had developed even greater usage for that technology then it would make sense for a nonexistent heat signature. That was disturbing news.

Though shaken by his conclusions the commander's face remained blank. "Well, as it stands, you four will remain quarantined for the remainder of the flight until we reached the harbor of Aprilius One; your food will be served directly to your quarters."

He turned his back on the pilots, leaving the room the way it was before he came in: in a solemn silence.

The four pilots observed each other quietly before a raucous laughter by Duo brought all attentive eyes on him. The tension seemed to slip away like water as the pilots finally relaxed. Duo took a few steps toward Trowa, giving him a playful pat on the back with his good arm.

"Man, I thought that was it," Duo said. He looked at Trowa with pure delight in eyes, a mischievous glow brightening them up.

"Where did you learn to lie like that – I mean to fabricate a brilliant story in an instant."

"It truly was something remarkable," Wufei agreed; his dark eyes gazed at Trowa in approval.

Trowa smirked arrogantly. "It comes with the job as an actor on the stage."

Duo blinked owlishly, scratching his brown hair idly. "I thought you were just a clown that did cool acrobatic tricks?"

Trowa dipped his head, narrowing his green eyes at the long-haired youth in annoyance. "You should know me better than that. Remember Oz? It's all about execution, striking at the right moment, to deliver a profound yet exciting performance."

Duo smiled sheepishly, slightly embarrassed about doubting his fellow pilot. Of course he remembered Oz; how could he forget his captivity at the Lunar Base, and Trowa punching the life out of him.

"Yeah, striking at the right moment," Duo grumbled lowly.

Duo had to admit Trowa's acting skills were extremely convincing; even the highly intelligent and observant Wufei was also deceived by Trowa's espionage into Oz.

"Thanks to Trowa, this provides a realistic cover for a plan; and I'd rather not be mandated to Zaft's interrogation," Heero said, bringing the surrounding pilots to the present objective.

"Then let's get to work," Duo replied eagerly.

* * *

The Messenger traversed through the starlit darkness of space, moving speedily to its destination. The ship started to slow its engines as a purple glow, reflected from the sun, radiated a spectrum of color. On closer inspection, as the ship flew nearer, the glow was from large mirror panels—thousands of panels attached to 11 hourglass-shaped colonies floating silently in space. The PLANTs, the home of the Coordinators, floated horizontally in two columns of five and six, tilting slightly at an angle. Attached to each colony was a beige disc.

The ship passed through a brigade of Laurasia-class and Nazca-class battleships. The Nazca: a turquoise-colored ship with an extended hull; larger and faster than its predecessor, its inception into the Bloody Valentine War increased greatly the overall performance of Zaft's space armada. And now, both ships floated protectively around its homeland, the PLANTs flexing their might defensively. The Messenger slipped through them to the fourth colony in the first row, where a mirror panel opened at the bottom level, taking them into one of the many larger harbors in the colony. The ship descended slowly, landing on the hangar floor with a loud thud.

Inside the Messenger, Commander Edys straightened out his uniform before he gave a quick knock. His fellow FAITH subordinate Chandra stood resolutely behind Edys as the door to the quarantined men slid open. Four dressed-and-to-go young men greeted him at the door; each silently appraising the two Zaft soldiers.

"It's time to go," he ordered, receiving four silent nods.

He led the group down to the mobile suit bay, where they left through an open hatch that connected the aerospace bridge to the PLANTs. The trip was silent yet alert for the young travelers. They arrived at a large atrium decorated in the zeal of Zaft—posters of Zaft's symbol: a large red z with a blue sideways star centered in the middle, orbited by a blue ring – adorned the pillar walls and hung gallantly from the ceiling. They watched attentively as Zaft personnel and dignitaries streamed by, oblivious to their existence as they conducted their own affairs.

However, what caught their attention were three large elevators situated at the end of the atrium. The group entered hurriedly through the closing doors of the one on the left. Chandra faced the young men, leaning against the clear glass windows. A bright smile eclipsed her face.

"You're going to love this!" she exclaimed excitedly; her hands gesticulated to the window as the elevator took them down.

Soaring down the long elevator shaft the pilots gazed with admiration and wonderment at the cityscape before them—a city so otherworldly than theirs that it looked almost organic, like an arboretum. The massive colony looked like an archipelago, each island connected by a bridge. The islands were steeped in hills, urbanized and built on top a concrete and metallic jungle of buildings. Vibrant green vegetation covered large areas in the city, giving the colony a natural aesthetic. It was a beautiful sight to behold, the ingenuity of humans striving to habitat in space.

It was beautiful, but artificial.

And Heero could not help but be reminded of the Earth; an imitation world of the Earth, born from its likeliness, that lacked any natural disasters that were an imminent threat to human life. A world controlled by humans for humans to simulate the conditions on Earth. It was a world for human development but transformed into a sanctuary for the genetically enhanced humans.

His eyes darted across the landscape, noting several large spires in the distance, towering to the artificial firmament_. Structural beams_, Heero thought.

"Support spires, to hold the bottom level to the 30 km central shaft," Chandra said, giving a knowing look at Heero. She had caught him gazing intensely at the spires before his eyes darted away. "Your eyes were trained on them, yes; they help stabilize the colony.

The PLANTs started out as a manufacturing and research and development program. It is now our home, well, our refuge as Coordinators."

"…from the genocidal acts of Blue Cosmos?" Wufei remarked. He leaned casually against the glass panels in the right corner of the elevator; his arms crossed reflexively. He stared pointedly at the red uniformed woman.

"Yes and other anti-Coordinator organizations. Such hate-filled rhetoric runs deep, and their racism becomes the poison for massacre and ethnic cleansing. Many of us did not make it here without losing someone important."

"Those that choose to hate our weak; they cower at their own futility and ineffectiveness as human beings," Wufei stated passionately. Those that lack power to defeat their enemy and use duplicity to meet their goals were cowards in Wufei's eyes. He loathed their existence – well, he used to. Now, he was unsure of himself after Treize's suicide for peace.

A humorless laugh reverberated in the glass-windowed elevator. A laugh full of resentment and bitterness, stirred its occupants. A morose smile crept on to Chandra's face as she clenched the sleeve of her right arm, remembering a dreadful memory. A memory of great sorrow that ran through her being, as her eyes became distant, glazed.

"It's pretty easy to hate, Wufei, especially if they took someone precious from you," Chandra responded quietly.

"Chandra," Commander Edys said softly.

"I'm fine," she waved dismissingly at him, though, he put a comforting hand on her shoulder. She exhaled slowly, steadily composing herself.

"It has become terribly easy to hate all Naturals for what they've done us—Junius Seven, massive genocide and ethnic cleansing campaigns. Moreover to see our superiority over their inferior bodies has become the indoctrination for the people of the PLANTs; if only to declare our agency our right as genetically modified humans to exist."

"But, as we can see, the same hatred has festered from the Naturals—the death of millions by nuclear jammers, G.E.N.E.S.I.S., near extinction of Natural colonies, and genocidal acts, too, done by the PLANTs," Trowa countered suddenly, positioning himself to Heero's left as he, too, looked at Aprilius' milieu.

"It's hard to oppose years' worth of hatred, however, it still needs to end," Duo added. He shrugged helplessly. To Duo, humans were fools for starting chaotic wars, but fools, as well, could be trained to end their cycle of violence – or have some heroic idiots with all-powerful Gundams come and save the day.

"Yeah, but eventually, when that hatred's gone, we'll have to deal with the loss and pain; and find out how we can mitigate our wounds. We have to believe in humankind, for they can end the cycle," Heero agreed. He turned to Chandra, observing her thoughtful expression. Her sullen mood lessened as her visage became a bit brighter.

"Your quite the optimist, aren't you, Mr. Yuy?" Chandra smiled.

"He's quite the optimist indeed. I remember like yesterday when Mr. Antisocial here gave off despondent and dejected vibes of suicidal tendencies," Duo said jokingly. He and Heero had been through titanic adventures where their death hanged only by a thread of luck and skill. That and Duo's rescue mission on 50th floor of the Alliance Military number three Medical Buildiling, in the south JAP area, gave him the chills every time he thought of Heero's failed suicide.

"You're projecting your own insecurities on to me," Heero stated plainly. Yes, his dry sense of humor annoyed the hell out of Duo, but it seemed to entice Trowa and Wufei into giving knowing smirks to each other.

Duo eyes widened. "What?! It's not my fault you have such an abrasive personality," Duo muttered.

A loud ring echoed inside the elevator, indicating that they've reached the floor level. Commander Edys escorted them to a waiting black car outside the orbital elevators, which took the passengers to Aprilius's capital city, Libertas. They came to a halt at one of the many large skyscrapers of the robust city, where they traveled inside to the front lobby. A dark-haired female receptionist looked at them with a hint of disgust that was clandestinely hidden in her smiling face.

Commander Edys approached the woman, his tone frank and to the point, "Do you have the work I sent via the Messenger for these four refugees."

The woman gave a perceptible nod, her eyes skimming through a folder before handing it, non-too gently, to Commander Edys. "They'll have to sign and complete the allotted paperwork, and then they go to see the department advisors for placement and background checks."

Edys gave a gruff nod, giving the four young men their respective folders. He gave them a slight smirk. "This'll be easy for you guys compared to our tedious task of reporting to the Supreme Council. But, I guess, this is the end of our short journey together."

He saluted them, raising his right hand to his temple before taking off through the automated doors. Chandra quickly followed, giving a brilliant, beaming smile to the four young men. "It was pleasure meeting you guys."

Once she was gone the pilots focused their attention on the paperwork inside the folders. Duo complained loudly that they should have forged their documentation before Wufei silenced him with a few choice words. Trowa looked at the papers feeling a bit annoyed; this was going to take a while and Heero had to agree with Trowa as they found some seats on the left-hand side of the busy building. There stay became a bit longer.

* * *

Trowa stepped out the bathroom door fully clothed in his dark blue high-collared shirt and light blue jeans. His brown hair was still moist from a shower that slightly eased his tensed muscles. He had just finished his morning workout and though he was not with the circus anymore, he kept up with well-routine of intense morning conditioning. He looked at the scene in front of him with a hint of amusement: both Heero and Duo were sitting at the dining table with their respective laptops, typing ferociously on the keyboards while the television displayed the recent news. They almost seemed glued to their screens with how close their noses touched them.

Trowa chuckled quietly as he plopped in his seat diagonally from Heero's, who glanced briefly at his approach. Their new accommodations, modest yet spacious, were only temporary, meaning, the four men would be on the move again as soon as they planned their next moves. Apparently, and to Trowa's puzzlement, they were granted asylum in the PLANTs. For the Naturals, this was an astonishing move, for the better fact, that previously, Naturals—except for those birthing first Generation Coordinators – were imprisoned for existing. Was it an act of mercy or compassion to show the Naturals that the war did not eradicate most of their humanity? Trowa posited that it was probably both, and an act of sympathy from the devastation they caused… and another use of propaganda that the PLANTs had more compassion than the Atlantic Federation—another way to spin the truth for the daily papers.

The four young men were relocated to an apartment building in one of Aprilius' 10 "cities" – each PLANT had a total of 10 cities—situated in the upper shaft of the colony. The view was magnificent, as they were on the 10th floor, they could see humongous artificial lake that was surrounded by shipyards and decorated lavishly with apartments and other edifices. The sight was incredible. However, since the war's end, the attitudes of the people were still hostile toward Naturals. And that fact did not go unnoticed by the Gundam pilots. Even the news had a spin which would, subtly, at times, slip disinformation to the masses.

Trowa could only shake his head at the deception as it reminded him of Oz and the Earth Alliance's schemes to convince and justify their actions to the public. Thankfully the news was rebroadcasting a military tribunal for war crimes committed by Coordinators during the war. The female newscaster was recapping last week's events:

_…and Gilbert Durandal gave a rousing to speech to the Provisional Supreme council, declaring not to execute the young men and women standing trial for war crimes. Most notable figures include: the former Le Creuset Team: Dearka Elsman, Yzak Joule, and Athrun Zala; their parents: Tad Elsman Administrative Committee member, Ezalia Joule National Defense Committee Member, and former Chairman Patrick Zala. Mr. Durandal exclaimed fervently that 'if the adults who started the war send youngsters to fight the war and label those youngsters who make a mistake as criminals and kill them off… who will lead the PLANTs of tomorrow? It is the youth who have experienced this agony that we should look up to… and we should turn to them to build a peaceful tomorrow!' This excellent speech has…_

"Even I have to admit: the man gives a great speech," Duo said, rubbing idly his injured arm that was still in a sling.

"Rumor has it that he's running for Supreme Chairman next year when the Provisional Supreme Council dissolves. I wouldn't be surprised if the youth of war voted for him to office. He's been real active of lately—appearing at public events, negotiating with Radical faction members, and meeting with war veterans. The moderates seem to like his position as it is aligned with the assassinated former chairman Siegel Clyne—a position of neutrality and peace with the Naturals," Heero said, his eyes still absorbed with certain documents on his laptop.

Trowa nodded his agreement. The moderates during this time possessed the power to keep the hardline radicals in check. "Well, as of this moment, the moderates are in control, and no-one wants a repeat of Zala's genocidal craze. We could probably infer that the some 'war criminals' will get leniency, especially those in the top echelon of PLANT society."

"Of course they will," Heero replied plainly.

"How about Zala's son, Athrun, right? It's not like an instrumental person like him would be granted clemency?" Duo asked.

"He'll be in a similar situation like the missing Lacus Clyne, and Dearka Elsman; they'll both be convicted of treason. The best sentence they'll get is exile. But… the people will sympathize with their situation, for the PLANTs were in the wrong."

"In the wrong?!" Duo raised an eyebrow incredulously before snorting. "They were insane!"

"Be that as it may, it was the law at that time," Trowa responded, getting up and walking towards the kitchen. Spotting a coffee machine with fresh coffee on brown kitchen counter, he poured himself a healthy dose and sipped it eagerly. He hummed soothingly as coffee was one of his favorite pastimes, especially during the war.

"…And Zaft law is absolute," Trowa finished, taking another sip of his beloved java.

"Absolute, huh. Absolutely insane," Duo shot back. He grumbled a bit, then, he leaned to his side to peer at Heero's laptop.

"Hey! When did you finish completing our passports?"

Heero gave Duo a pointed look but his Prussian blue eyes shined playfully. "You talk too much. Ignorance was one of your strong suits."

Duo sputtered obscenities, but Heero was oblivious as his attention focused on the television. The times were changing again, as another blood red curtain opened, rising in Earth's southern Hemisphere. The newscaster continued:

_…And in today's news, the war between the Atlantic Federation and the United States of South America has reached its fourth week of bloody fighting. With the loss of Pons Pontis and the refuge crisis escalating in Central America, the Atlantic Federation is in a stalemate, for the time being, with the U.S.S.D. and it's all thanks to Edward Harrelson for the bolster in morale. Harrelson, a former Earth Alliance top ace had defected from the Atlantic Federation to fight for his home country's independence. With a recent win at in the mountainous regions of Guatemala, in former Guatemala, through a strategic ambush, according to reports, the U.S.S.D. then capitalized on capturing the Atlantic Federation's naval port at Puerto Barrios. The Atlantic Federation has…_

They watched intently, taking in every detail of the report, every word hinted or used strongly for the conflict in Central America. To the observing pilots, the goal and the Federation's bloodlust for war, was to retain the strategic location at Panama's isthmus, The Bridge of the Americas, the Panama Canal, back from the South American dissidents. Whoever controlled the section had control from the East of Atlantic to the West of the Pacific; not to mention, the Panama spaceport the move of weapons developed on Earth toward space naval bases. Although destroyed the spaceport could still be rebuilt for the Earth Alliance's auspices. The Atlantic Federation desperately needed that spaceport for outsourcing and resources from Central and South America.

The mass driver: an electromagnetic catapult that would launch people and materials into space through a linear motor. By the end of the Bloody Valentine War, all of the Earth Alliance's mass drivers were either in Zaft's hands or destroyed. Though it would take time to rebuild, having enough mass drivers would ensure more efficient productivity with the Atlantic Federation's lunar base. In addition, access to the region's resources – All of South America's resources – would provide a better cost effective method than transporting them to the nearest mass driver.

To Trowa that would a reasonable goal for Blue Cosmos to achieve, especially after the massive loss of expenses because of the war. The Atlantic Federation wanted to re-annex the territory for the increased wealth of its resources. And there, would be a perfect opportunity to gather information, to discover the whereabouts of Blue Cosmos.

"They're not going to stop until they have Panama and most of South America – it's too valuable for them to leave it alone," Trowa said quietly.

Heero glanced at Trowa from his seat. They made eye contact, unblinkingly. Heero knew Trowa could read his actions, right down to his given train of thought. Perhaps, because he and Heero were alike as they were train as soldiers at an early age, which their ideas synchronized most of the time.

"Right. And for an organization like Blue Cosmos, it would be a mistake to pass it up."

"What would Blue Cosmos want with that besides its sources; I thought all – most – we're genocidal maniacs that would not attack their fellow Naturals – unless they sympathized with the Coordinator plight," Duo asked curiously, glancing between Heero and Trowa.

Trowa narrowed his green eyes, shifting a bit in his seat. "It's not Blue Cosmos, but its mother organization that is the marionette master of the former. They are insidious in their goals for greater control of the Earth. And if I'm not mistaken, but, this could be an assumption: Blue Cosmos' members have infiltrated this organization, which would in fact, and understandably so, fund their own projects: Coordinator extinction and mobile suit development programs."

Duo could only shake his head in sorrow, for this unknown entity reminded him of the Romafeller Foundation and its supports and financing of Oz, to gain greater control of the Earth Sphere. Seems like nothing had change but name of the game and who's pulling the strings.

"I wonder who are the big wigs manipulating the Atlantic Federation?" Duo pondered aloud.

"I don't know, but I plan to find out. I leave within the week, since Heero's done with our passports." Trowa gave Heero a knowing look.

"What?! That soon, Trowa," Duo exclaimed. He blinked surprisingly, confused by Trowa's reckless action. The countless months since Duo's known Trowa, it was rare that he acted rashly, except after losing his memory.

Heero returned his look. "Trowa," Heero said warningly.

"I'll be alright," Trowa placated softly, his green eyes softening.

"Do you at least have a plan before charging in all guns blazed into the United States? I mean everything that we know and are familiar with has completely changed!" Duo called out, his voice laced with concern.

Trowa smirked confidently. "I'll think of something."

* * *

He cut the air with a violent elbow to the face of his attacker, staggering the man backward. Another man came from the rear stealthily, aiming a punch at the back of his head. The young man glared, sensing the incoming strike of his attacker from behind him. He slightly ducked to the inside of the punch as it overreached him. Suddenly and with full force the youngster grabbed ahold of the man's offending wrist and his privates, and using the attacker's momentum flung him over his shoulders into the man in front of him. The clash caused the two men to topple over each other into soft green grass.

The two men, faces obscured by a yellow and white mask respectively, slowly stood up; their hands balled tightly into fists as they placed them in a guard. Behind the attackers stood the young woman in charge, a scowl set on her lovely features. Her dark eyes expressed a quiet fury, bordering on rage. She was always there when he practiced; not fighting, but observing with her watchful eyes.

An intense staring competition began, none of the participants making the initial move. The three fighters stood frozen among the green forestry, waiting with bated breath for the first strike. A flicker of something caught the young man unaware out of the corner of his eye. And it was at this moment, that the two men renewed their attack, trying to catch the young man off-guard.

With a lightning fast kick to the solar plexus, the young man followed up with a roundhouse kick to the first red-masked attacker's face. In an instant, he attacked the yellow one, dodging a crescent kick to his head. The youngster caught the kick in midair and, again, with abnormal strength, tossed him to the ground. His opponents lay in a heap on the ground, motionless, before they dissolved into nothingness. The woman's scowling expression remained before morphing into one of indifference. Eyes solemn she looked as if she wanted to say something, but like usual whenever she appeared, she didn't, always shaking her head in disappointment.

These two foes, Yellow and White, he had named, had followed him into this universe. They were manifestations of his mind, of his turmoil, of his inner conflict. They came when he was at his weakest, distraught, or in his deepest confusions, like now, for instance. He was trying to grapple his purpose in this world, where he was without one, but it seemed fruitless no matter how much he defeated his imagined manifestations.

And she looked at him, like she always did, waiting for something; something in himself that he could not find. Peace. Such a simple word, but he had none; not when his past kept roaring at him, haunting him with visions of the deaths of his loved ones: his home colony and Meilan. And all for what? In the Cosmic era they were nothing but useless memories latching on to a host that had no purpose except fighting.

He had left the apartment, in hopes of calming his stormy mind, where it usually worked. He had wandered through the city, finding a large park next to the lake. He sought a secluded area, and there, he practiced with great vigor. He trained his eyes on the woman once again.

She, too, vanished in the wind.

"Nataku," he whispered grudgingly as he placed his hands on his knees, trying to control his breathing.

"I still don't know the answer."

As soon as his hard breathing calmed, his eyes narrowed on the place of the disturbance during his practice. "Come out. Your veiled curiosity does not disguise your hidden intentions."

"Hidden intentions?" a male voice called from his hideout, slightly chuckling. "I'm just bystander watching an interesting display of physical talent."

Wufei gave a disapproving hum, watching the area of where he heard the voice. The thick green foliage covered the man's figure.

"Why do you fight, and what purpose is your fighting? Your form was flawless but your eyes, powerful, yes, held an uncertainty. Hesitation and uncertainty are not becoming in a fighter, for it would surely lead to defeat. You must be resolute and decisive."

The voice carried a charm to it, one of charisma and amusement. It demanded answers, but was calm enough for teaching. Patient. That's what Wufei felt as he thought of the mysterious voice.

"You sure like to hear yourself talk," Wufei chided.

The voice chuckled. "It's not the first time someone's said that, I'm sure it would not be the last."

A smirk lit up Wufei's face. "I'm looking for the answers," he enlightened his secretive guest.

"Answers?" the voice asked curiously, almost begging for a response.

Wufei nodded. "Yes, answers and questions to the whereabouts of peace and justice."

The voice hummed curiously as if evaluating his response. "But we have peace now, a strenuous peace, but peace nonetheless."

"How long will that last?!" He exploded. "How long will Coordinators and Naturals fight over their hatred for each other?! Such weakness!"

"Jealousy. Envy. Greed. Anger. Hatred. Superiority. Inferiority. Strength. Weakness. They all constitute various human emotions; emotions that cycled in the war conspicuously and more devastatingly than one can imagine – or could now that it happened. They were used most viciously on Junius Seven and, in a timely response, even more deplorably on the Earth – the nuclear jammers. And the people cried: 'You killed someone I love, so I'll kill you.' 'They hurt us, so we'll hurt them.' 'We're better than you, so that makes you worthless.' 'They think they're strong, but we'll show them.'"

The voice paused dramatically. "An eye for an eye in a tale of revenge is what I hear every time I meet a fellow Coordinator bitter over the war. But we all have our vices that we have to overcome… through our own power. We need power to do anything. You need power… and I need power for the peace between Coordinators and Naturals."

A deafening silence spread amongst the to two individuals; both in reflection.

"Yes, those fires of hatred burn strong, twisting the hearts of humans, but they can be changed," the voice said firmly. "And they will be!"

"Just who are you?"

The man slowly emerged from the foliage, revealing all of himself: his long, rich, black hair framed his face and ended at his upper back; he had very pale skin, which was set off by his pristine white uniform. The man's face had a soft smile; a face of comfort – but his serpentine eyes held a predatory look, one of sly cunning. He strode to Wufei in confidence.

"Gilbert Durandal," Wufei said. The man was unmistakable; his influence in Zaft's political arena was starting grow rapidly and his talk last week to the supreme Council of dismissing execution charges against Zaft's 'war criminals" captivated the PLANTs. Yes, Wufei definitely knew the rising stature of this silver tongue man.

Durandal appraised the young man with a warm smile while curtly nodding his head. "I see you know of me. I'm glad."

His expression became determined. "The world is changing once again, and peace, at best, in this convoluted truce, will be nothing without power. Power and might will be needed to change this dreadful future.

"Young man, do you have power to push us to peace?"

"Push the world into another war, you mean," Wufei countered.

"Quite the contrary" – he smiled warmly – "People are born for predetermined destinies, and quite unnaturally, they tend to deviate away from them, especially Naturals. How would peace look like if all those deviations were corrected, where everyone could live normally in their chosen professions? It would be something wouldn't it, would it not, young man?

Wufei nodded in assent, though, his dark eyes were clouded by a myriad of thoughts racing in his mind. Gilbert's words were compelling, slowly slithering underneath Wufei's unstable mind.

"But that's just philosophical conjecture and wishful thinking on my part. At the moment, the PLANTs need space and time to recuperate our losses and reorganize our military. I doubt the Atlantic Federation's racist agenda would have not quelled since the end of the war." Gilbert sighed in frustration, slightly shaking his head at the dissatisfaction between the super powers.

A loud rustle amongst the bushes was heard between the two conversationalists as a man in a black tailored suit with matching glasses stumbled out the foliage. He gave a few, but loud and heavy, breathes as he bent down to control his breathing. He looked up, in what Wufei observed to be, in alarm and shock.

"Mr. Durandal! There you are! I've been looking for you everywhere," the darkly dressed man exclaimed. He hastily whispered something in the Durandal's ear. Durandal merely chuckled at the message.

"I guess our time is up, young man." He turned to leave, but halted as he gave the young man a piercing stare with his serpentine eyes. "Whatever choice you make, make decisively; and remember: the PLANTs will always be there for young Coordinators, like you, unsure of their destinies."

Wufei watched the man, his eyes trailing the fading figure of the man known as Gilbert Durandal. There was something about that Durandal that gave off an inviting yet warm charisma; a charm of honesty and compassion; but Wufei knew better, or he thought he did since Treize's death. He pondered slowly Durandal's words. A place for him in a world foreign and outright insane in their need to eradicate each other from the face of existence seemed welcome in comparison to Relena's disarmament.

Wufei hummed in contemplation, giving a stern look to no-one but the now empty section of the park. In this new journey, where would the wind take him? He knew exactly where, and he'll get his answers to the extent of how much people will risk for peace.

* * *

The last vestiges of sunlight, in a brief but rapid switch, turned off. The hourglass colony, now, blanketed in the darkness of space, but alighted by the trillions of stars shining through the transparent panels became night. The vast array of technological innovations and systems controlled by the space colonies were the gatekeepers of night and day. The PLANT technicians were responsible for this sudden development, as usual, for space had no weather firmament like the Earth.

It was at this time that a wandering Wufei returned home, moving up the escalator to their apartment. He casually leaned against the wall of the elevator while it took him to his floor. Upon the ring, he swiftly walked out, heading to their apartment. Once opening the door, he found one of the three occupants typing steadily on his computer. Wufei paused as Heero's blue eyes seized him, quietly speculating on his late entrance.

"You're back late," he stated matter-of-factly, though his eyes were enquiring.

"Yeah. Word in the street was that Gilbert Durandal was in town, so I went to scout him out. He's very convincing," Wufei replied, sliding into the empty chair adjacent next to Heero. He slouched laxly, his arms resting the chair's back.

Heero assented with a nod. "He does have a way with words, which has been pretty convincing for the moderates. He'll be a strong contender for Zaft Chairman, if Zylas Dalem does not beat him."

Heero paused as his eyes darkened slightly. "We're about to make our next move; I configured the Gundam online system to work in this universe so we'll have communication when we begin our missions."

"Missions? I don't take orders," Wufei said defiantly.

"I know, but the missing Oz and White Fang carriers are still bothering me. Searching through the web and records of any new "arrivals," especially with that force, has turned for naught.

Wufei furrowed his brows in confusion. "So whoever is pulling the strings has eradicated all evidence. Has there been anything out of the ordinary that have disrupted this universe's timeline?'

Heero shook his head negatively. "No. They've hidden themselves almost too well, as if they had help from an outside source."

"An outside source? You think Zaft or the Atlantic Federation is complicit?" Wufei treaded carefully. If Zaft or the AF that thought would make sense, especially with the new technology of their universe in their hands, much destructive mechanization would repeat itself once more; only this time, this universe would go back into a chaotic era.

A strange thought travelled to the forefront of his mind. He vocalized it: "…and the Colony United Front?"

"I've also looked into that, but came up with nothing. They seemed to be going the same way with Orb—allowing Coordinators and Naturals to live together harmoniously and peacefully, while declaring neutrality. But…"

"…it's strange that they would not align themselves with Orb," Wufei finished.

As was the case with Orb, even though the war ended, their jurisdiction over the autonomy of their country was nonexistent as of now; they were absorbed into the Atlantic Federation Empire. So it was too no surprise to Wufei that the Colony United Front would rather distant itself from the Orb Union until the country resurfaced again. In addition, it was all a declaration of strength, showing that their neutrality held up because of the even exchange over resources and agriculture in space between the PLANTs and the E.A. To Wufei, the United Colony Front was gaining momentum as the new power that held firm throughout the Bloody Valentine War.

Time would only tell of how this new faction would influence politics in the present Cosmic Era. Wufei gave a quiet sigh, staring at the wall across from him. Everything was in motion, as time carried him to another destination, testing and taunting him, provoking him to find an answer for his hidden truths.

Heero's monotone voice broke him out of his reverie. "I'm joining Zaft to see if I can dig a bit deeper into their files. Nothing's making sense," he said suddenly his face blank.

Wufei blinked in surprise before narrowing his eyes. "I'm too joining Zaft."

Heero did not look perturbed by Wufei's announcement, if Wufei could tell. He looked like he expected the answer with the sudden tensing of his eyes. "Is that so?"

Wufei said nothing; he felt that if he did, his motivations for joining Zaft would arouse Heero's suspicion, if it not already had. An immediate silence reigned on the two Gundam pilots, and as they sat in semi-quietness – Heero's prolific finger dance across his keyboard made a cacophony of noise – Wufei once again turned inward. His thoughts drifted toward his meeting with the enigmatic Durandal. The man reminded him of Treize, a great likeness in their composure and power to resonate and gain followers, so loyal and fanatic, that word from them was like word from God.

He was no fool to any leader that could inspire faith like Treize. So he looked at any leader or rising leader with great scrutiny, analyzing their sense of integrity to see if it would better humanity. He did it with Treize, Relena Dorlian, Quinze and Zechs. And maybe just maybe Durandal's method could provide a sense of peace; that was what his senses was telling him – and from his encounter with Brodon – to be the imminent threat of humanity, to force it to change.

Wufei inwardly smile. Yes, he would be an instrument that would change humanity's bloodthirsty history, and bring a justice and peace. This had to be the right decision for the world to change, and for him to bring peace. He exhaled a building yawn from his throat. He craned his neck to look to at the clock. It read: 10:30 p.m. In a swift motion that brought Heero's clairvoyant blue eyes on him, he stood up.

As if knowing what Wufei was about say, Heero spoke, "We leave tomorrow to register for Zaft. The more we wait, the more time we give to the joint forces of Oz and the White Fang."

Wufei's mouth remained a line. "Don't hold back. I figure that our "natural talents" will get us noticed either way."

"The same to you," Heero replied lowly.

Wufei gave a glance before entering his bedroom that he shared with Trowa. He closed the door and leaned heavily against it. Tomorrow would be the day of change. He hoped he was going in the right direction.


End file.
